


A New Normal

by XxAuntyBekahxX



Category: Halo (Video Games) & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Mental Health Issues, Military, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Retirement, Slow Burn, Veterans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:42:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26835388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XxAuntyBekahxX/pseuds/XxAuntyBekahxX
Summary: *please note, this story will take place after Halo 4 and will diverge from canon there. Spartan Ops, Halo 5 and after will not be included*John thought it would be reasonable to say that he had witnessed more than the average person in his lifetime. From his rigorous adolescent training, to the Insurrection, seeing countless of his brothers and sisters listed MIA or KIA and then all of the chaos that was the Human-Covenant War, he didn’t think there was anything left in the galaxy that could surprise him. That was part of the reason why he was here.After all his years in wars and conflicts across the galaxy, he craved a home. He had spent so long on the move, and the weariness of it all was catching up to him. However, he knew it was all he was used to. The life of a Spartan was the only life he knew, was the only life he had lived since he was taken in by Dr Halsey and SCPO Mendez at the age of 6. What life was there, anyway, for an aged Spartan in a galaxy no longer at war?For that he did not have an answer, but he knew his next steps.
Relationships: Cortana/John-117 | Master Chief, Frederic-104/Kelly-087 (Halo), John-117 | Master Chief/Original Character(s)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 34





	1. A New Normal

**Author's Note:**

> All Halo characters, plot, dialogue and lore remains the property of Microsoft. Eleanor, any other original characters, and the general plot of this story were created by me. Please do not try to steal or recreate my work.
> 
> That being said, I have read a lot of Halo fanfictions. If something I have written seems similar to another story, please contact me and let me know. It is probably just from influence, and would definitely be unintentional. Accidents do happen, and I have seen similar stories about John retiring to Earth. If it is too similar I would be happy to change things, all you have to do is let me know :-)
> 
> Trigger warning for thoughts of suicide, PTSD and other mental illnesses starting right from the first chapter. There will only be brief thoughts about suicide, no descriptions or graphic details about it. Unfortunately all of these topics are pivotal to the story I am trying to tell, so I can't separate them and it would be difficult to read this story by skipping chapters. If you feel uncomfortable in any way by mentions of these things, it might be best for you to skip reading this story. I don't want to unintentionally upset a reader with these topics, but I can't leave them out of my story either.

John thought it would be reasonable to say that he had witnessed more than the average person in his lifetime. From his rigorous adolescent training, to the Insurrection, seeing countless of his brothers and sisters listed MIA or KIA and then all of the chaos that was the Human-Covenant War, he didn’t think there was anything left in the galaxy that could surprise him. That was part of the reason why he was here.

After the Didact was destroyed, and his AI with it, he did not know what to do with himself. It was Captain Lasky who unknowingly planted the idea.

* * *

_The Master Chief had spent most of the night cycle wandering around the ship. He normally had a knack for falling asleep instantly, even in a new ship – it was a required skill of military life – but tonight was different._

_The_ UNSC Forward Unto Dawn _was an impressive ship. Something had drawn the Chief to one of the large observation windows on the starboard side. The military side of him which he had relied on so many times before was critiquing the design choices that went into the ship. With their current technology they would be able to detect a ship coming roughly a minute before it arrived – which was far sooner than it would be spotted just by looking out a window – rendering the observation windows unnecessary. Moreover, he felt the windows were a massive design oversight for the structural integrity of the ship._

_On the other hand, a smaller part of him was simply finding calm in watching Earth from orbit. That part of him could definitely see the appeal of a window such as this one. It was beautiful._

_After all, the last time he had seen Earth, it was being invaded by Covenant forces._

_He felt newly appointed Captain Thomas Lasky’s presence before he announced himself, asking if he could join the Chief._

_“Beautiful, isn’t she? I don’t get to see her often enough.” Lasky took up a position next to the Master Chief, staring out at Earth. Chief didn’t reply, choosing instead to let his superior fill in the silence._

_It wasn’t long until the Captain spoke again. “I grew up on New Harmony. Attended Corbulo Military Academy. Never saw Earth in person until I was an adult, but…I still think of her as home.” The Chief felt an odd sense of longing, unusual for him. He struggled to identify the feeling, but it fled just as quickly as it came._

_“You don’t talk much, do you?” Lasky crossed his arms, drew in a deep breath, and continued quietly. “Chief…I won’t pretend to know how you feel. I’ve lost people I care about, but…never anything like you’re going through.”_

_The Chief schooled his posture and his emotions. “Our duty as soldiers is to protect humanity. Whatever the cost.”_

_The response from the Captain was immediate, albeit stunned. His arms uncrossed, and he angled himself to face the hulking suit of armour next to him. “You say that like soldiers and humanity are two different things. Soldiers aren’t machines. We’re just people.”_

_Chief turned his head slightly towards Lasky, then back towards Earth._

_Lasky sighed in resignation. “I’ll let you have the deck to yourself.”_

_It was only after Captain Lasky had left that the Chief was able to sort through the flurry of emotions caused by his superiors’ presence. His words had a profound effect on the Spartan. He knew that the longing he had felt earlier was rearing its head again, and he felt that this time he could label it._

_After all his years in wars and conflicts across the galaxy, he craved a home. He had spent so long on the move, and the weariness of it all was catching up to him. However, he knew it was all he was used to. The life of a Spartan was the only life he knew, was the only life he had lived since he was taken in by Dr Halsey and SCPO Mendez at the age of 6. What life was there, anyway, for an aged Spartan in a galaxy no longer at war?_

_For that he did not have an answer, but he knew his next steps._

_He did not sleep that night. By the following morning, he had handed his discharge papers into Captain Lasky, and made the trek to the armoury to start the long process of removing his MJOLNIR armour._

* * *

It had taken a bit of time between that conversation and now. The pure logistical chaos caused by his decision had been unexpected. Apparently, no one in the upper echelons of ONI had considered it a possibility that a Spartan might want to retire someday. MIAs and KIAs were easy enough for them, all ONI had to do was stamp a sheet and close the file. But John’s case was more complex than he had imagined. It made his discharge process take longer than most.

For starters, when he had made the decision to retire, it had been quite impulsive. It was not in John’s nature to make decisions without facts and research to back it up, but he would stand by his choice. He had not thought to consider many of the things that civilians would instinctively think of when making a big move like he was. As the officer in charge of his discharge had stated, civilians need to gain employment, permanent residence, and do mundane things like grocery and clothes shopping, pay electricity and water bills, and more. John was very thankful that ONI had immediately drafted up a procedure for him to follow for his discharge, including a briefing on what to expect from civilian life.

Another unexpected hurdle had been financial. Never in his entire life had he needed to handle his own finances. It was a welcome surprise to find that the UNSC had been paying him a sizable salary throughout his service. After doing some independent budgeting research, John could reasonably guarantee that he would not have to work another day in his life. The likelihood of that happening, however, was slim to none. John was a restless man. He would find things to do, whether he earnt money from them or not.

The most tedious hurdle was the last condition in his discharge process. He was required to do 12 weeks of mandatory psych sessions as well as a final psych evaluation.

Psych evaluations were not unfamiliar to him. When you go through as much as John had and are as expensive an asset as John undoubtedly was, ONI would never let you die by something preventable like suicide. So, ONI funnelled as much money as they could during the war efforts into mental health, which John thought was great, but presented problems for him. After all, there’s not much you can tell your psych if your entire life is as highly classified as it gets.

In no time at all, his 12 weeks of mandatory psych sessions of silence were up, and he had passed his psych evaluation (he’d had enough experience with them to know what the “correct” answers were). Within the week, John would be transported from the _UNSC Forward Unto Dawn_ to the Aranuka Orbital Elevator, and from there to Sydney for his final debrief with the Admiralty and the Security Council, parts of UNSC HIGHCOM and ONI, respectively.

* * *

By Thursday, John had been officially discharged from service in the UNSC. He had received an honourable discharge and been signed off by Fleet Admiral Lord Terrence Hood himself. Apparently, Admiral Serin Osman wanted to speak with him privately once he arrived in Sydney, which he had mixed feelings about. Part of him longed to see another Spartan-II, irrespective of the fact that she was no longer active. However, the other more rational part of John knew that she had changed. No longer was she Serin-019. She had spent years being trained under Margaret Parangosky as her protégé, and he could not forget it. Margaret Parangosky had always held a bitter resentment toward the Spartans’ creator, Dr Catherine Halsey, and Serin was rumoured to have followed with that resentment. As much as he would like to believe that Serin would be able to put that aside for the sake of civility, he doubted it.

John waited in the hangar with just a duffle bag of civilian clothes given to him from the military surplus stock onboard the ship. He heard footsteps behind him and turned, immediately straightening once he recognised who was approaching.

“Captain Lasky, Sir.”

The Captain sighed, used to this argument. “At ease, John. You know you don’t need to call me that anymore.” Lasky knew that the Spartan was incredibly serious about military norms, but now he was officially retired there was no need for the formalities.

As they walked silently towards the Pelican that was waiting to take John to the top of the Aranuka Orbital Elevator, Lasky couldn’t help but observe the taller man.

* * *

_The first time Lasky saw the Master Chief without his armour, it had been in the mess during breakfast a few days after their conversation at the observation window. Lasky didn’t often get a chance to make it out to chow with the ODSTS and Marines on board, but when he had the opportunity to, he took it. To the Captain, there was nothing more important than maintaining his ships’ morale, and for that to happen he needed to be seen amongst them all, not just some hidden figure pulling strings. He occasionally supervised PT sessions as well, and he just hoped it helped give his soldiers a bit of comfort to know that their Captain was a person just like them._

_That day, as Lasky was eating and speaking to Commander Palmer, he felt a looming presence behind him. “Is this seat taken, Sir?”_

_Lasky spun around, observing the hulk of a man. He would’ve recognised the Chief from his voice alone, but the way he held himself was so rigid and robotic that even without his armour, he would have trouble fitting in with other humans. Not for the first time, Lasky wondered if it was the right choice to send him out into the galaxy on his own. He didn’t know all that much about the man as his entire life was highly classified, but he could assume that he didn’t have particularly good social skills or life skills. It was written all over him._

_Lasky realised he had taken his time to answer, so he pulled the chair out for the Spartan. “Of course not, have a seat, Chief. We were just talking about the progress being made on Earth. They’re calling it Project Rebirth, it’s the worldwide rebuilding initiative to repair all the damages from the Battle of Earth. Most of the major cities seem to be nearly completed.” A thought occurred to him. “I know that ONI and HIGHCOM will want you in Sydney for a debrief once this is over, we were talking about sending you down via the Aranuka Orbital Elevator. Aranuka itself is still in the process of being rebuilt, but it should be getting close by the time you’re finished up with us. We’ll arrange transport for you from the city to Sydney. Is that all okay?”_

_The Master Chief furrowed his eyebrows. “Yes, Sir.”_

_Commander Palmer started to speak about the reconstruction of the residential areas in Sydney, but Lasky zoned her out and instead focused on the Spartan beside him. The man was incredibly pale, more so than any other man he had ever seen. He put it down to years in daily military service and thick armour. His shoulders were broad and pulled straight back. His hair was a grey-brown, cropped close to his skull, and his facial hair looked like it had either been shaved within the last hour or had been lasered off. The Chief had an aged look about him, caused by his complexion. His skin was littered with angry, red scars, the most prominent one being under his left eye. The wrinkles on his face indicated a constant scowl, with markings between his brows, around his mouth and in the form of crows’ feet around his eyes. More striking, though, was the colour of the man’s eyes. They were a cerulean blue – the kind that seemed to belong on a newborn baby – and juxtaposed with his other features._

_The last thing the Captain noted was that even with the aged look about the Spartan, he had a feeling they were around the same age._

_“Hey, Chief. Mind if I ask a question?”_

_“Of course not, Sir.” It amazed Lasky that he was able to sit here and analyse the man’s facial expressions. The Master Chief was known for being cold and by-the-book – well, unless it had involved his AI, but Lasky thought it better not to bring_ her _up – and for all that the man tried not to give anything away, the Captain could tell that he was not practiced in having to hide the emotions in his face, only his voice._

_“How old are you?” Lasky saw the Chief take a moment, as if deciding whether he was allowed to answer. For all he knew, that could be exactly right._

_“Forty-six, Sir.”_

_Memories flooded the Captain of the night he first met the Master Chief. Of course, he had always known it was he who had been his saviour that night at Corbulo Academy of Military Science – that horrible night where he had lost many of the people who mattered most to him. He remembered the three other Spartans that had been with the Chief that night – Blue Team, he later found they were called – and how young they had looked when they had taken off their helmets. Their leader had not taken off his helmet, but in retrospect Lasky knew that he had been right on the money with their age. He thought back in horror and counted the years. The Battle of Circinius IV where the Academy was destroyed occurred in 2526. That placed the Spartan at fourteen or fifteen. Only a year or two younger than he himself was, and he’d wager that the rest of Blue Team was the same age as well. It shocked him that teenagers were being sent on missions of that severity with next to no backup, but then again, with all that he’d seen of the Spartan-IIs, they could handle it. They did, after all, save his life and two others that night._

_As people started filing out of the mess hall, Commander Palmer and the Master Chief both raised from their seats, the former going to take their stack of trays to the Mess Sergeants’ bench. The latter stared at the Captain as he slowly tucked his chair in, still in awe of the man next to him._

_“I never really got a chance to thank you for that night on Circinius IV – “_

_“Don’t. I was just doing my job.” The Master Chief glanced away._

_“That may be so, but regardless. Thank you.”_

_He turned back towards his superior again, contemplating before holding his hand out. “John.”_

_Lasky furrowed his eyebrows, then relaxed. “Thomas.”_

* * *

As John got into the Pelican and took his seat next to the cargo door, Thomas handed him a datapad. He explained that all of the identity documents he could possibly need were on this datapad, as well as his ticket for the upcoming transports and the Earth GPS location of the house he had bought in Port Macquarie, a town around 380km from Sydney. John knew that he didn’t want to live in Sydney. In his eyes, the further away from ONI he lived, the better. But one of the conditions in his discharge was that if there was ever another war with any of the Covenant or Flood species, he was to act as an advisor to HIGHCOM and ONI. Try as he might, he could never truly get away.

“Keep in contact, John. And if you ever decide you miss the tours, I’m sure the UNSC will be scrambling to get you back.” With that and a clap on the shoulder from Lasky, the cargo door was closed, and they departed for the Aranuka Orbital Elevator.

John had never been on an orbital elevator. Shore leave was non-existent for Spartans (not that he would have complained) and any mission that required landing on a planet was done via Pelican. Orbital Elevators were too much of a target and too easy to wipe out. Once he had shown his papers to the attendant in the lobby of the station, he took his duffle bag and headed into the elevator. It had rows of seating, and there were only three of four other people on the elevator.

Instantly, John’s fight-or-flight reflexes kicked in and counted the possible exits, weapons and threats in the room. His response to being in the orbital elevator was expected in a way since he had never been on one before and any confined spaces made him a bit nervous. Regardless, they arrived at Aranuka Station approximately thirty minutes later. John disembarked and checked his ticket before moving across the station to international terminal.

As John waited for the civilian transport craft that would be taking him to Sydney, he thought about his expectations regarding life outside of the military. He hoped that in the coming months, he would be able to forge a new life as a civilian on Earth. Only time would tell.


	2. Red Tape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Sorry it's taken so long, I've been really trying to plan where I want this story to go before I write any further and I'm pretty much there. Hopefully from here I'll be able to update once a week.
> 
> Shoutout to Razzika on FanFiction.net. Their story "My Neighbour is a Spartan" is what really inspired this one, and if any of you haven't read it, go check it out (link is down the bottom of these notes). If you have, you'll notice a few key similarities that I haven't been able to avoid cutting out.
> 
> First of all, Razzika's story is based in Tamworth, Australia. I live in Australia only a couple of hours away from Tamworth, and that's what gave me hope that stories based in Australia can work. That, combined with the fortuitous knowledge of Sydney being the UNSC/ONI's base of operations in the Haloverse made me realise that it can actually be done. Hence, Port Macquarie is where John will retire to.
> 
> Secondly, I'm trying to avoid combat or anything like that in this story. I'm trying to focus as much as possible on this being a "character study" of sorts into the mind of the Master Chief. I want to include relationships with his fellow Spartan-IIs and his introduction into the mundane life of civvies, not have firefights "just because he's the Chief". I think Razzika did that very well.
> 
> Any similarities beyond that is unintentional.
> 
> Hope you guys like this update! Feel free to share this with your friends and kudos, bookmark, comment, whatever! It gives me a lot more motivation to write when I know that people are genuinely interested in reading it.
> 
> Lastly, if anyone has any questions or wants to see anything in particular added in, I'm more than happy to hear it. Just comment and I'm happy to have a chat with you about it, I love that kind of engagement and I'll take any constructive criticism I can get!
> 
> Here's the link to "My Neighbour is a Spartan" by Razzika  
> https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6427388/1/My-Neighbour-is-a-Spartan

John couldn’t help but think that Commander Palmer was right. He recalled the conversation between the Spartan-IV and Captain Lasky from a few months prior. She had remarked while the Captain was obviously distracted that one of the defining characteristics of humanity was its ability to survive, rebuild and thrive. As he stared out of one of the windows of the Sydney Ferry Terminal in Circular Quay and looked out at the harbour, he was astounded at the progress that had been made in the five years since its devastation. He had not personally been to Sydney during the Battle of Earth, but all reports indicated that the Covenant had laid waste to all but the UNSC HIGHCOM Facility Bravo-6. Considering Bravo-6 (colloquially known as the Hive by UNSC personnel) was the galactic home of the UNSC, and the facility itself also housed the ONI headquarters, it was a wonder that it had not been a bigger target. John guessed that the Covenant did not have the relevant intel to deduce that the Hive was actually well underground, and their weapons (even glassing) would therefore do no damage.

In fact, the Hive was his target today. He was headed there to receive a post-service debrief from the upper echelons of ONI and the UNSC. From the little information he had received so far, he guessed that the debrief would likely be regarding the classified parts of his military service and what he can and can’t disclose to people about his now-past life.

After a three-minute Maglev train ride from the station near Circular Quay, he arrived at the Bravo-6 Facility stop. He disembarked and made his way up the escalators towards the first set of security checkpoints. John felt some degree of pity towards the security guard at the gate. The man was young, probably no more than twenty or twenty-one years old and was quite short. John knew that he dwarfed the poor guard, so he tried to remain civil even through the tedious process of signing in, retrieving his temporary high-access swipe card and going through a metals detector and mandatory pat-down. The last one was the most irritating, as invading any Spartan-II’s personal space was a big no-no. John realised that this guard didn’t know that, however, and appreciated that he was just doing his job. Besides, seeing a six-foot-seven super soldier standing at attention in front of a person while they were doing partially invasive security checks on said super soldier was sure to be anxiety-inducing.

As John walked through the final part of the checkpoint, he thought to himself that he would _definitely_ be speaking to Serin about getting that guard a raise.

_\--------------------------------------_

John had to admit that the Atrium was impressive. Considering the Atrium was the “entrance” to the Hive, its enormous size was enough to give anybody who entered a strong indication of the size of the rest of the facility. He was especially glad for his guide, who Serin allocated to him knowing that John would not be able to find his way around even after having visited countless times for War Games and mission briefings years ago. She was silent, simply allowing him to follow and observe. The bustle of the ONI personnel and the UNSC officers were in stark contrast with each other; where the Spooks hurried in groups while conversing about charts and reports, the Officers would stride with purpose and generally looked like the definition of “on a mission”. It was fascinating to see how well they embodied the stereotypes that had been laid on them.

After around ten minutes of walking plus a long elevator trip, they had made it to the lower levels known as Core 5. This was where the CINCONI’s offices were, and where the debriefing would be conducted. John’s guide, gestured towards down a small corridor, about-turned and hurried off in the direction they had come from. With a deep breath, he headed down toward the room he knew as CINCONI’s main office.

_\--------------------------------------_

As John knocked and entered the office, his first instinct was to scan the room for familiar faces and alternate exits. Of the former, he found several – Lord Terrence Hood was sat on one end of a long oval table with Admiral Serin Osman at the other. Major General Nicolas Strauss, General Hogan and General Dellert were seated between them on one side of the oval, and there was a lone seat for John on the side closest to the door. However, he noted of the latter that there were no other exits aside from the one he came through.

John acknowledged Lord Hood by standing at attention before taking the seat offered to him. It was a few moments before Hood spoke. “It’s good to see you alive and well, Master Chief. We thought we’d lost you for a long time there.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Now, we’ve all seen the paperwork, hell we’ve signed off on it. But are you really sure you want to up and leave the UNSC? You’ve spent decades enlisted, and I can’t for the life of me understand why someone of your skill would ever want to retire.”

John thought carefully about what he wanted to say. Expressing his feelings was something that didn’t come naturally to him even before he became a Spartan from what he could remember. He was also acutely aware of Serin’s gaze on him, and it made him want to squirm. Part of him was proud that one of his sisters was in such a powerful position but part of him was just happy she was still alive and wanted to pull her aside and catch up on all that he’d missed in private. Really, he just wanted the debriefing to be over. So he answered.

“That’s exactly why I can’t stay anymore. This life is all I know, and after fighting for so long I just want some peace. I want a home, and stability, and all the things I never had because of how I was brought into military life. I want the chance to learn who I am and what I am without the armour, and that’s just not something I can do while still enlisted in the UNSC.”

“I just don’t understand that, John.” It was Serin that spoke this time, and it surprised him that she would use his name here rather than his title. From what he understood, Serin had completely cut ties with the Spartan project and made out as if she were just a regular ONI recruit before climbing the ranks. John had expected her to continue this and act either dismissive or as if she didn’t know him at all. It certainly surprised him, but it was welcome. It meant he might have a chance to patch up her relationship with him and the other Spartan-IIs.

Serin continued, “I second Lord Hood’s points. You are certainly not the type to retire. None of the others have, so why are you the first to leave the UNSC willingly? And will the others follow? Are we to expect the entirety of your precious Blue Team to leave active service once they hear about your retirement?”

John didn’t have an answer to that. He hadn’t heard from Kelly, Linda or Fred in quite a while, and was unsure of how they would respond to his retirement when they found out. All he hoped was that they would stay alive and do whatever they wanted to do, whether that was retire or stay in service, he didn’t care.

The topic was then changed to the events of the Battle of Requiem and the following New Phoenix Incident. John was asked to give a play-by-play of the events, so he told the board everything that they wanted to know. About an hour into the meeting, Major General Strauss asked a question that set his hairs on end.

“Master Chief, I am more curious presently about the status of your AI, Cortana. There wasn’t much mention of it in your debrief report, and you are yet to mention the AI in this meeting. What happened?”

John intuitively felt that the General’s question was more than just curiosity, but he didn’t quite know what it was. “She was destroyed in the New Phoenix Incident while we were taking out the Didact. She sacrificed herself in order to save us all.”

The General dug a little deeper. “You say it sacrificed itself, but how? It was an AI, they don’t just get destroyed that easily.”

John definitely did not want to answer that question. This was heading quickly into “very very classified” territory, and he did not trust Strauss. His questions were not innocent at all, and thankfully John wasn’t the only person to note that.

“Relevancy, General?” Lord Hood set his piercing blue gaze on Strauss, and the man slightly cowered before straightening.

“Well, Cortana is one of the UNSC’s most valuable assets, Sir. It would be irresponsible and reckless for us to just assume that the AI has been destroyed. I would recommend a search party of some sort for the site of the incident, as well as a thorough search of the Master Chief’s armour for – “

“Noted, Strauss, but ignored. It would be a waste of time. If the Chief says Cortana was destroyed, then she was destroyed. He has no reason to lie. Now, I think it’s about time we wrap this meeting up.”

Strauss nodded, obviously resigned to his superior.

“One last thing. Chief, I want you to know that we’re telling the public that it was a Covenant attack. There’s no reason to bring in another alien species for them to worry about. Now, I’d best be off. It was good seeing you, and there’ll always be a place for you if you ever want to suit up again. Pray we never need it though.”

Lord Hood and John nodded at each other, shaking hands and each of the men filed out of the room, leaving just Serin and John. Serin stood up from her seat, slowly and deliberately. John had only had a few encounters with Margaret Parangosky but he could definitely see her in the way her protegee acted. Both women had an inherent way of intimidating anyone they came across.

John watched as the CINCONI made her way across the room and stood when she came close, but Serin just brushed past him.

His heart was nearly pounding through his chest as she closed the door and exhaled.

_\--------------------------------------_

“John, no matter how I come across when I’m in Admiral Osman mode, I’m still Serin. I have missed all of you, no matter how hard that is to believe. And no matter how much I think from a tactical standpoint that it’s the worst mistake the UNSC could ever make to let you go, I still agreed to it. You’re still my brother, John. I used to hold a bit of a grudge because I knew you all thought I was dead, but I thought none of you ever even tried to look. But I know you didn’t really have a choice. You were always Halsey’s favourite, but all of you viewed her as a mother figure to some extent. Of course you were going to believe her when she said that I was dead. What other option did you have?”

They were both quiet for a moment before John spoke, nearly a whisper. “You know that if we knew you were still alive we would’ve moved mountains to get you back. You know that.”

“I do.”

John sat back down into his seat, covering his face in his hands and breathing deeply. Serin put a hand on his shoulder. They stayed like that for a few minutes in silence.

“You’re thinking about her, aren’t you? The AI? You would move mountains to get her back too, wouldn’t you?” A nod was all the confirmation Serin needed. She pondered for a moment. “As much as I don’t like Halsey, I can get in contact with her. She’s in ONI custody at the moment pending investigation, but for you I can make something work. We can commission her to make another Cortana –“

“No.”

“Just thought I’d offer.”

A few more minutes passed.

“You should probably know, John, that it was Captain Thomas Lasky and I that pushed for your retirement to be approved. No one wanted you gone, but I knew that if that was what you wanted then I would help you get it. And if you don’t already count Lasky as a friend, I’d suggest you start. He made a lot of enemies advocating for you. It won him no favours.”

Serin paced over to her desk and scribbled on a paper notepad. Centuries prior, paper was still commonly used, and technology was only just starting to be used for correspondence and notetaking. In these times, though, paper was used for its secrecy. You could very easily burn a piece of paper but wiping something completely off the Waypoint was close to impossible. It was a well-known secret, however, that ONI was capable of purging things related to a keyword off of the Waypoint. It seemed that even CINCONI doubted the capabilities of her own resources if she was still using paper.

She tore off the scrap of paper and handed it to John, who inspected it and saw a series of numbers, seemingly contact numbers. “What are these, Serin?”

All he got in response was a sly smile and a shrug. “Call them when you’re in private.”

Serin and John both left the room together, making their way to the entrance of Core 5 so that John could head back up the elevator. Before he left, he remembered something and turned to face the woman, a small grin on his face, something that felt out of place for him as he hadn’t smiled in a long time. With other Spartan-IIs, emotions came naturally.

“Just a suggestion, Serin. One of your security guards, his name is Gomez. Kid needs a raise, he had to put me through the security checkpoint. Handled it well, and he’s only young. Keep an eye on him, he could be useful for something more than a guard.”


	3. Homebound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys,
> 
> Here's another chapter for you all. I've taken some reference dialogue from Halo: The Fall of Reach here. I watched it over the weekend, and I felt that it was really interesting to get that insight into the Spartan-IIs early years. Highly recommend watching it. The dialogue in the flashback in italics is straight from that movie, paraphrasing would have ruined it as I'm nowhere near good enough to write John, Mendez and Sam that well!
> 
> Enjoy :-)

There was a lot on John’s mind after that eventful meeting.

He had walked the couple of blocks back to the waterfront, as he felt he needed the solitude and silence to reflect on everything that had happened. John’s most prominent thought was about Serin and his other siblings, of course. Nothing mattered more to him than his brothers and sisters, and every time he lost one of them it was another heavy blow. He understood that it was the nature of his job, and that any of them who stayed in active service was surely destined for that fate eventually. The issue for him was that he could not stand the middle ground that he had forced himself into. John had backed himself into a corner, as he did not want to encourage his siblings to retire nor did he want to see them in danger.

He recognised that this was the retirement talking. John had learnt over the years to believe in his fellow Spartan-IIs. He knew them as well as he knew himself, and he trusted their ability to look after themselves and each other. That didn’t stop the jolt of panic that always hit whenever one of the Blue Team under his command was in a potentially fatal situation. The instruction had always been clear – focus first and foremost on completing the mission, regardless of casualties. But John never left anyone behind, not if he could help it.

_\--------------------------------------_

_In 2525, John’s class of Spartan-IIs were discretely transported to UNSC_ Atlas _in order to complete their augmentation process. After he woke up, he and the other survivors were given the news – twenty-seven of his fellow classmates had not survived the procedures. In the space of just a few days, he had lost over a third of his siblings. He would make sure it would never happen again._

_John and the rest of his class were in their dress uniform, formed up inside the ship. Senior Chief Petty Officer Franklin Mendez was standing on a platform above them, and brought them to attention, then to arms._

_“We commit the bodies of our fallen to space.” With that, SCPO Mendez also saluted, and the pods containing his dead siblings were shot into the abyss._

_\--------------------------------------_

_As John watched several other Spartan-IIs being carted away in wheelchairs, he asked Mendez what was going to happen to them. Desk duty. An unfit fate for someone who had been conscripted at the age of six and commanded to fight and die for a war they knew nothing about. But of course, desk duty was a far better fate than the death that the twenty-seven had endured during augmentation._

_“Was there something else, son?”_

_John snapped his gaze back to Mendez. “Sir, I’m squad leader. Members of my unit died. What should I have done to keep that from happening?”_

_Mendez stared at the boy. “117 - ” he rethought and sighed. “John. What your class went through… That any of you survived at all is a testament to your strength. Walk with me.”_

_They passed by a few of his other siblings, gathered around in mourning. When Mendez and John entered a hallway nearby, Mendez continued._

_“A leader must be ready to send the men under his command to their deaths. Your duty is to the mission.”_

_John bristled. “I’m sorry, Sir, but I fail to see how that applies to this situation.”_

_Mendez slowed his pace and turned his head to face the boy. “The lesson is sacrifice. It is acceptable to spend lives when necessary, squad leader. What is not acceptable is to waste said lives.”_

_“Which was this, Sir? Spent or wasted?”_

_SCPO Mendez had no answer. “Get some rest, squad leader.”_

_John watched his CO leave for a moment, then turned and walked towards the observation window. He hunched over, shoulders set and hands on the rail, staring into space where his siblings now rested forever._

_Footsteps approached. Sam. “What did Mendez say?”_

_“Not much.” John was not in the mood for talking, even with one of his closest friends._

_“Let me guess. Something about duty and sucking it up.”_

_John grew frustrated with that. How could Sam begin to understand how John felt? John was the squad leader. Sam knew nothing of duty. He was too kind, he could never be a leader. He wouldn’t be able to cope with the pressure._

_John couldn’t help but let the anger show. “That sounds nothing like him.”_

_“It sounds exactly like him.” A few beats. “Me and Kels are going to the shooting range later. You in?”_

_“No. I’m going to hit the gym.”_

_\--------------------------------------_

This frustrated John. The silence. With all this newfound time on his hands, he had nothing to do but worry.

On the topic of worrying, that led to his next concern. Cortana. He knew she was destroyed; he saw it with his own eyes. However, General Strauss’ queries made him stressed. Why was he so invested in her whereabouts? Did he want to take advantage of her technology for his own use? John would not allow it. Not his Cortana, not ever. Moreover, this stress was just making him miss her more. He was starting to regret his retirement. How would he be able to last the rest of his life in retirement if he wasn’t even able to last a couple of months?

John pushed these thoughts to the side. He sat down on a park bench near the waterfront. From here, he had a clear view of Sydney Harbour, the ferries and all the sky traffic. He patted his front pocket and pulled out the slip of paper Serin had given to him earlier that day. On it were three series of numbers – seemingly contact numbers for slipstream packets. John could hazard a guess as to who those numbers belonged to but decided that as much as he would love to contact them, he would wait. He would give it a month or two before contacting the three numbers. No doubt they were on a mission of their own, and probably didn’t have access to secure comms for civilian slipstream packets anyway.

He checked his datapad for the time and sighed as he stood and started the trek back to the Maglev station to catch a train to the airport. Earlier in human history, a trip such as the one he was about to do from Sydney to Port Macquarie would take about an hour by air. Nowadays, it would be about a twenty-minute trip.

John pondered his new home during the walk. He had not seen any pictures of the house, just knew the address. The UNSC had facilitated the purchase for him, as he had no experience with house auctions or even what to look for in a house. He was very thankful for that, as it was one thing that had stressed him out when he first considered retiring.

Another thing he knew was that he had neighbours. He was not exactly in an urban part of the city, but there would still be properties nearby. The nearest property, to his understanding, was about a five-minute drive from the start of his driveway. In Port Macquarie the transportation system was nowhere near as advanced as in Sydney. There were no Maglevs as the former city was not as large as the latter. Transportation would be either public buses or a personal car. This was another thing to be thankful of. Thomas had pulled in a favour and managed to get John a car to use. He had initially tried asking for a decommissioned Warthog, to no avail. Instead, Thomas got John a similar civilian counterpart. He figured that a massive man driving a repurposed military vehicle would not fit John’s desires to “blend in”, so he arranged for a Spade to be dropped off at the Port Macquarie Airport for John to use. Spades were quite common civilian vehicles, known for their versatility and the similarity between them and the Warthogs used by the UNSC, so John knew it was a good choice.

John soon arrived at the Maglev station. A quick trip took him from there to the basement entrance of the airport. He checked in with his duffel bag and began his wait.

_\--------------------------------------_

The flight to Port Macquarie was uneventful. He longed for the legroom afforded by flights in a Pelican but knew that this was just another thing he needed to learn to adjust to. John was stopped by an attendant after departing and directed to one of the desks to collect his keys. True to his word, Thomas had left the Spade just outside the terminal.

John inspected the vehicle. He had only had minimal experience with Spades in a few missions which had sent him to populated areas, and even then, it was only when a Warthog or Mongoose wasn’t an option. He knew the vehicle to be quite sturdy, and capable of supporting three Spartan-IIs at a time. (He knew this because Blue Team had accidentally broken one during a mission when they tried to let Fred into the vehicle). The Spade was a two-seater with a pick-up tray on the back. It was roofless, which suited John fine as his head would likely extend out of the frame anyway. The last observation that he noted was the colour. Green. John would have to send some kind of thankyou to Thomas when he was settled in for all the work he had done for the Spartan.

He hopped into the Spade and entered his address into the GPS. It seemed to be leading him in the opposite direction of the city, which was good news. Although he had made the decision to retire, he knew living so close to a dense population wouldn’t be without challenges. For John, it would be one of the most difficult things he’d had to face – adjusting to civilian life. He would need time and space in order to do so.

The drive was scenic. Lots of trees, Hastings River running to his right and houses scattered sparsely along the road. John made a mental map as he went. It was ingrained in his every waking moment to be constantly aware of his surroundings. Mapping his location with possible escape routes and threats was part of his military upbringing. If John was being completely honest with himself, it was a habit he did not want to shake. The thought of not having one hundred percent certainty of his safety made him uneasy.

The topography of the region was so similar to Reach it made his heart ache. The Hastings River reminded him of Big Horn River in the Highlands. He knew of some mountainous areas south-west of Sydney which saw snow occasionally throughout the year. He wanted to visit at some stage, although he knew it would likely trigger memories of his training years. Similarly, the tropical and swamp areas of his new residence reminded him of the Military Wilderness Training Preserve he spent a lot of his youth in. The two main training facilities that the Spartan-IIs had been based in were the Military Reservation 01478-B and Reach FLEETCOM Military Complex. All those locations were densely wooded areas, and as such John knew that with time, he would be able to make Port Macquarie his home.

After around five minutes of driving, he made it to the turnoff towards his new home. Another minute or so later, he pulled into his driveway and turned off the engine after parking under the carport.

The house was of a reasonable size. It was far too big for just one person, even a Spartan. The entire house was on stilts, likely to prevent water damage. After all, the edge of the river was less than a hundred metres away, so flooding was probably a common occurrence during periods of heavy rainfall. A sheltered wooden balcony stretched all the way around the house.

John stepped out of the Spade with a thud, pulling his duffel bag with him. He trudged up the stairs and opened the door with a key from the envelope given to him by Thomas, moving wearily into the hallway. His first task was to list everything he needed. He would have to go into town the next day for at least a few things, so he pulled out a UNSC notebook and a pen from inside his bag. John stared at the book for a moment, then chuckled lightly under his breath. He was always taught that great minds think alike, so he took it as a compliment of sorts to his intelligence that both he and Serin still used pen and paper like humans did centuries before.

Inside his notebook, John started his list.

First, the things he would need urgently. He had only brought two or three civilian outfits with underwear and socks, a towel, the joggers on his feet, the pen and paper in his hands, Thomas’ envelope and his datapad. He had not eaten since he left the _Infinity_. Years of training and willpower killed the noticeable signs of hunger, but his body was still telling him to eat. Some stores would likely be closing soon as it was nearing dusk, limiting his choices. So it was decided then, a quick meal was priority number one.

Priority number two could wait until the next morning. It would involve another trip into town, but considerably longer. From what he could see in a quick tour of the house, the only furnishings it contained was an extremely basic bed in the master bedroom that took up the entire upper level, an oven, dishwasher, refrigerator, freezer and washing machine. Off the top of his head, John knew he would at least need a clothes drier and a few other pieces of kitchen equipment. He didn’t know how to cook but was interested in learning. For tomorrow’s trip, he would just get the clothes drier and a microwave, plus some food and clothes shopping.

The electricity and water had been set up for him already, thankfully, so he headed upstairs ready for a shower. Just to spite his military side, he took a five-minute shower instead of his usual two-minute ones. John revelled in the hot water, allowing it to loosen his muscles and drawing out a sigh of relief.

Another five minutes later, he was dressed and out the door. With slightly more energy than before, John hopped into the Spade and reversed it out from the carport, kicking up dust as he sailed down the dirt driveway back towards Port Macquarie.


	4. First Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys, this one is only going to be a short update. This chapter was originally supposed to be a part of Chapter 3, but I felt it was getting too long so I decided to break it into two chapters.
> 
> Thanks to everyone that has been giving this story kudos and commenting, it's always really exciting to read the new comments.
> 
> I haven't referenced anything in this chapter, but I would just like to say that kebabs are *chefs kiss* perfetto!
> 
> Hope you guys like it!

Centuries ago, Port Macquarie was established as a penal colony for England to send their criminals. There, these convicts would be put to task with jobs to do whilst serving their sentence. Eventually the colony became a municipality but was not used as a traditional “port” as the name suggested due to the dangerous coastal bar at the mouth of Hastings River.

John could see remnants of the colony all throughout the city. He’d driven past a location called Hamilton Green just past the turnoff to the airport. It looked like an old school, and old was the key word there. It appeared to be from the late 1800s.

John followed that road past the Hamilton Green and towards the city. Slowly, the trees faded away and became small buildings, then bigger ones. It wasn’t a long trip from his house to the city; only ten minutes or so. By the time he’d made it into the CBD, the sky was growing yellow, the sun setting behind him to the west.

There was a little bit of dusk traffic around. Most cars looked significantly newer than his Spade, but his vehicle was chosen for practicality rather than appearance. He drove a lap around the block, eyeing off the different food options for takeaway. His diet had never been what anyone would call “varied”. MREs and mess food was always rather bland, specifically designed to be cost effective, and allowing military personnel to retain or regain energy whilst preventing weight gain or overeating. This combined with his lack of shore leave over the years had prevented John from ever having the opportunity to try new foods.

He saw a small restaurant advertising Turkish cuisine and decided to give it a try. John pulled into the main street, parking along the middle of the road. John hopped out of the pick-up and made his way to the restaurant.

John thought that it was rather incredible – that Earth still had such a varied culture even with its unification and expansion throughout the galaxy. It would make sense for the things that made each culture unique to fade away as they melded together. Instead, each culture retained some key things like cuisine and festivals which helped keep their ties to their heritage. He imagined it would be even more important to colonies on other planets, as it would allow them to keep memories of Earth even as they live lightyears away.

The Turkish restaurant was very cosy. Lit with candles as opposed to bulbs, it screamed “romantic”. There were several couples already seated at the tables. John had been toying with the idea on the drive of simply dining in, but now that he was here, he knew that simply wasn’t an option. Aside from his awkwardness amongst people, it would be even worse to be the only person dining alone in a room of romantic dates. No, he would simply eat at home.

With a glance at the menu, he ordered two chicken kebabs with the lot. He figured that would be just enough food after a day of meetings and travelling. He had only had a kebab once before, during one of his rare shore leaves not too long after becoming a fully-fledged Spartan but before the Covenant was discovered.

John returned to his pick-up and made his way back to his home. The trip back was quiet, he wasn’t thinking about anything, but instead, just driving on mental autopilot.

When he arrived home, he parked again under the carport and got one of the kebabs out of the bag, opening the foil around it and tucking in as he started walking up the stairs. John was exhausted, and just wanted the day to end ASAP. He found the greasiness of the kebab to be exactly what he remembered. John felt almost guilty about eating the meal, as if SCPO Mendez was right over his shoulder watching and criticising his choice in food. That thought made him a little uneasy, and he found that he couldn’t finish the second kebab (even though in a usual circumstance he would probably be able to eat the equivalent of three). He wrapped the half-eaten food up and put it in the fridge.

As much as he wanted to go to sleep, he knew his mind would not rest until he was more organised. He took the opportunity to start planning out his spaces inside the house, and to plan for the next day. John went for another walk around the house. The entrance to the house included a short north-south hallway that ended in 3 exits. The first, to the left, led to a small room and another slightly larger room with a built-in wardrobe in the west wing. The second, straight ahead, led to the giant open-plan dining/living space with a kitchen with a walk-in pantry to the right, and straight ahead of the entrance were multiple folding glass doors leading to the back balcony and backyard. The third exit, to the right of the hallway, led to the east wing which contained a linen closet, bathroom with a bath and shower, another small room and stairs leading to the second floor. The second floor was relatively small, only spanning about a third of the house, situated on the right-hand side. It contained a large walk in wardrobe, an ensuite with a combined bath and shower, and the master bedroom.

John thought it was logical that the master bedroom was his own, and it had the bed in it already anyway. He was struggling to find purposes for the other rooms, however. He knew he needed a gym of sorts and going to a public gym was out of the question, so John considered buying or building a shed for that. None of the indoor spaces were quite big enough, and he didn’t want to accidentally break a wall or something. So, he was left with three rooms to plan out.

Another idea he had was for an office or library of sorts. John felt the room with the built-in wardrobe in the west wing was best suited to that purpose. He could easily take the doors off and make that a nook for a desk to fit into. He would buy a bookshelf with the hopes that one day it would be full enough that he would need to buy another. John’s fondness of reading was something that had stayed with him even through his transition from a six-year-old civilian into a military man. All throughout his Spartan training, he would read any book he could get his hands on. Most of it was military tactics, but one of his most loved memories was when Kelly managed to steal a fiction book off one of the instructors for John. They returned it to the man none-the-wiser after he had finished the book in one night after lights out with a torch under the blankets.

The other two rooms he would leave empty for now, John decided. Something told him he would find a use for them sooner or later.

The last thing on his agenda before bed was to plan out the next day. With a quick search on his datapad, John found the relevant stores he needed to visit. Groceries, home to unpack, furniture, home to unpack, tools, home to unpack, clothes, home to unpack. Simple enough. He hurriedly jotted down notes for each of his to-do-list items before bringing his duffel bag upstairs to the master bedroom. The bed against the west wall was adorned with white cotton sheets, complete with perfect hospital corners, and a simple woolen blanket. John went into the ensuite and got changed into the sweatpants he had in his duffel. Afterwards, he ran a flannel under cold water and washed his face off, then hung it up to dry on the towel rack.

John turned off the lights and trudged to the bed, feeling the day weighing down on him. With a sigh, he pulled back the sheets and hopped in, eager for the next day and all it would bring.


	5. A New Dawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chappie! Hope you guys like it!
> 
> I think I'm finding slightly shorter chapters easier to manage. I can pump out a whole chapter in one sitting if I want to, as opposed to breaking it down and having to find the motivation to continue... That's why this one took a few days haha
> 
> That being said, shorter chapters will mean more frequent updates, so it might curb the binge-reading for some of you. Which would you guys prefer: shorter chapters with more frequent updates or longer chapters once a week? Let me know in the comments.
> 
> As always, comments are always appreciated!

Around 0515hrs, John awoke to the bright glare of the rising sun through his north-facing window. One perk of his location was that he would be able to see parts of both the sunrise and sunset each day. _I could get used to this,_ he thought to himself as he stretched rolled out of bed.

John trudged to the bathroom, carrying his toothbrush and a change of clothes with him. This was his last clean set, so he would definitely need to buy more clothes today. And maybe figure out how to use the washing machine later. He turned the tap in the basin to on, cupping his hands together and scooping some water: first for his face and then to take a drink. Once he finished that and felt awake enough, he undressed and hopped into the shower, turning it to scalding.

He really did enjoy these small pleasures, like longer showers and a choice in food. It was things like these that made him glad of his choice to retire, rather than regretful. His only regret was still leaving his family behind. He had no idea where his siblings were (granted, he could easily find out if he wanted to) and that made him uneasy. He missed them all, but especially Fred, Linda and Kelly. After Sam’s death all those years ago, they supported him and each other in a way that no one else but Sam himself had done before or since.

He shook himself out of those thoughts. It would not do to dwell on the past, only to work towards a better future.

John turned off the shower and got dressed. Today was a simple pair of black cargo pants and a khaki fitted t-shirt. After that, he wandered down the stairs and through the back door onto the deck. The view of the river was just as good from the deck as it was from his bedroom window. The sun was mostly up by then, and he knew this was going to be a bit of a morning ritual for him. _Hopefully tomorrow it will also include coffee,_ he chuckled to himself.

With the thought of coffee, he had a newfound determination to carry on with the day. His first step was to head into town for groceries so that he could make himself breakfast and a nice cup of coffee. He hopped into the trusty Spade and made his way to the store. John remembered seeing a supermarket only a minute or so after the turnoff to the airport, so he decided that was probably the closest option. In minutes, he had arrived and parked. After getting out of the car, he had started to receive some very strange looks. It was no shock to him that people in his new town would be judgmental; he was used to looks and hushed tones. But for it to come in no less than twenty-four hours? He wasn’t expecting that.

His pale skin had always been a deterrent for ordinary people. All the active Spartan-IIs had it, mostly because they were never in the sun. They would go days at a time completely covered by armour. Besides, it wasn’t like they did anything recreational like civilians would, like going to tropical beaches and sunbathing. Altogether with the Spartans’ extraordinary height and build, they were the perfect targets for the criticising gaze of onlookers.

Ignoring the stares as best he could, John kept his head down and went into the store. He had already grabbed a few things on his list before realising he would need a basket or trolley of some kind to put them all in, so he headed back to the front of the store to get one. As soon as he had passed the front doors, very loud alarms went off. They seemed to be coming from near him, so he spun on his feet, looking for the source. Within seconds, a security officer who was stationed nearby was walking over, looking very agitated. John started thinking about how best to defuse the situation. He had no idea what had happened, aside from that the alarms had gone off after he had left the store. Maybe people weren’t allowed to leave through the same door they entered from?

“I’m going to have to ask you to step away from the door, Sir.” The officer eyed John up, and he’d never been more grateful for his size. John thought he might actually have time to reason with the officer before any conclusions were drawn.

“Of course.”

John took cautious steps back inside the store. “Do you think I’m blind? Trying to get away with that, you weren’t even hiding them!” That confused the Spartan, obviously it wasn’t about the direction of traffic. What else could he have done to cause a problem with the security officer?

“I’m sorry, Sir, but I don’t know what I’ve done,” John tried to explain. “I was going out to get a trolley from the bay outside and alarms started going off.”

“That bullshit isn’t going to fly with me, you had a whole handful of things you were trying to steal!”

Another man was approaching, wearing the employee uniform with a name badge listing him as Aaron the manager.

“What happened Joe?” The manager looked between the Spartan and the security officer, who must be Joe. Aaron then glanced down at the pile of items in John’s hand.

“Sorry to interrupt, Sir, but I think this is all one big misunderstanding. I only realised after I had already grabbed a few items that I didn’t have anything to carry them with and I was going to be buying a lot more things, so I headed out to get a trolley. I’ve never been inside a supermarket before, and I wasn’t aware that there was a problem with that. I was not trying to steal anything; I have the money to pay for everything I intend to take home. I apologise again.”

Joe the security officer grew even more flustered at this. “Never been inside a supermarket before? Are you hearing this Aaron? The man’s clearly pulling shit out of his ass. He’s gotta be in his forties and he’s never been inside a supermarket?”

John blocked out the man’s tirade and turned to the manager. “I know you won’t believe me, but I’ve been with the military for as long as I can remember, and I just haven’t had a chance. Shore leave was non-existent for me, so there’s never been a reason for me to go to get groceries before. If you want me to leave and never come back, I can do that. But it wasn’t my intention to steal anything from you, just to get a trolley and continue shopping.”

John was seeing that civilian life would not be as easy as he had thought. As long as there were other people, there would always be conflict. Stares, whispers, arguments and confrontation, it was all the same to him. He would also be an outsider.

“No, I don’t think that’s necessary. Where did you serve, sir?”

“I’m afraid that’s classified, I’m sorry but I can’t go into any level of detail.” John was confused. Was the man making conversation? Or was he enquiring for other purposes?

“Um..okay, what about this? Did you know a Private First Class named Chips Dubbo?”

John thoughts back and instantly was bombarded with memories of a heavy Australian accent. He most certainly remembered Dubbo; the man was unforgettable. It took gall to be able to mock a Spartan for their driving abilities, and the countless battles they fought together solidified his place in the Master Chief’s memory. There were only a certain number of people who John respected for more than just their rank and position. His fellow Spartan-IIs, Commander Palmer, Thomas, Lord Hood, Doctor Halsey, Thel ‘Vadam and Dubbo as well as a select few other random marines and civilians who had caught his eye over the years for their bravery or skill.

“Yes, I did. Served with him many times over the years. Friend of yours?”

“He’s my brother. He speaks highly of you, Chief.”

John didn’t question how Aaron knew his other name. There was no point. Dubbo had always been almost mystical in his own right, with his uncanny ability to get out of troublesome situations. If Spartans were sturdy, Dubbo was invincible. Instead, John asked how the man was doing. The security guard saw that nothing was going to come of his ranting, so he quietly retreated to the other side of the store. Aaron and John chatted for a few minutes about Dubbo’s wellbeing: it seemed after the war, Dubbo had received an honourable discharge as well as receiving the Human-Covenant War Service Medal and the UNSC Defence Force Combat Action Ribbon in a ceremony in Sydney. He had not been injured at all, which was not much of a surprise, but his bravery and actions during his constant tours in the war qualified him for the medals.

John and Aaron parted ways, with Aaron welcoming the Chief to come back any time and telling him that he would let Dubbo know they had spoken. John passed on his regards, and then continued with his shopping.

One key thing that he made sure to buy was a big storage tub and some bungee cord – known as octopus straps or “occy” straps in Australia – so that he could bring his groceries home. The downside of his Spade was its lack of walls around its rear tray, so John figured the best solution for the time being was to load up the tub and use the bungee cord to hook around the edges of the tub and connect to the handlebars on either side of the frame.

Once John had paid for his purchase (and received a rather dubious look from the security officer), he loaded up the Spade with his groceries and carefully drove home. The drive was tense, as he was worried that any bumps might dislodge his temporary solution, but he made it home with the groceries still in one piece. He brought the entire tub upstairs, sitting it on the island in the middle of his kitchen. The Spartan got to work unpacking all his groceries, sorting things onto shelves. He’d bought oats, bags of frozen fruits and yoghurt as his main breakfast foods. A large jar of coffee grounds had been purchased, as well as a kettle and several mugs, glasses, a cutlery set and a plate and bowl set. For lunches, John had bought wholegrain wraps, lettuce, tomatoes, carrots, avocado a precooked roast chicken and some mayonnaise. He also brought some minced beef and several different herbs and spices. He had eyed off the freezer meals in the supermarket and ended up going with the must nutritional meals. These included chicken pesto pasta, beef and tomato casserole, Atlantic salmon with pasta, lamb and rosemary hot pot, Indian tandoori chicken, butter chicken and tuna bake. Of course, John had to get three of each freezer meal, because one wouldn’t fill him up at all. On top of all that, John got some fresh apples, bananas, kiwi fruit, watermelon and a bag of nuts for snacking.

By the time he’d finished, it was around 0930hrs, so John settled in with a cup of black coffee and a bowl of oats with fruit and yoghurt. He read the news for around fifteen minutes, and then rinsed his dishes.

John’s next step was furniture. He headed back into town to the furniture shop and hopped out. A lovely attendant greeted him at the door.

“Hi! Welcome to the store, could I help you with anything?”

John had already planned out exactly what he needed based on the site he had looked at on his datapad. “No, thank you, I know what I’m looking for.”

That didn’t stop the attendants’ smile. “If that changes, just let me know and I’d be happy to help!”

He gave an awkward smile back which didn’t quite meet his eyes and continued through the store. He realised the store could deliver, so he arranged for his items to be delivered the next day. He had ordered a bedside table, bookshelf, desk, microwave, office chair, dining table and chairs and a hammock.

With that done, his next stop was for tools. He had a fairly complex understanding of mechanics from emergency repairs on UNSC vehicles over the years, and he wanted to get some tools for maintenance on the Spade. Fortunately, its parts were nearly identical to that of a UNSC Troop Transport Warthog, so he knew exactly what he would need.

Some 400 years prior, humanity had adapted the tires they used on ground vehicles to carbon rubber tires. With the increase in their technological capabilities, they had decided that air-inflated tires were simply too much of a liability. Modern tires made of the carbon rubber material did not have any issues with deflation or punctures, but still needed to be replaced every so often due to tread wearing. Around the same time, Earth was running extremely low on fossil fuels. A discovery had been made which allowed vehicles to run on hydrogen-injection engines as opposed to the combustion style engines they had been using for centuries before. This meant that for a vehicle like his Spade, all John would need to fuel her up was some water. The quality of water didn’t matter, as the engine was able to turn up to twelve litres of fresh or salt water (even with sediment) into fuel while in use. For every twelve litres of water that was used, 790 kilometres of travel was able to be achieved. All that was needed was for the owner to manually remove the debris from the conversion process after a full tank cycle.

Considering this, there wasn’t a lot of maintenance that was needed to be done. However, John would still need to do things like oil moving parts and fix any electrical issues. His main concern was buying tools for the future. The tub on the rear tray of the Spade was only a temporary solution, because eventually he was hoping to personally fit walls to the tray. That likely wouldn’t be happening for at least a few days, maybe a week, but he would need tools for it regardless.

At the tool shop, he bought a car jack, wrench and spanner set, screwdriver set, socket set, jumper cables, pliers, wire-cutters and more. Anything he thought he would need for working on the Spade immediately went into the trolley. In addition to car maintenance tools, John also bought a hammer, some nails, measuring tape, a cordless drill, a quick square, a spirit level indicator, duct tape and a ladder.

With all that packed up and ready to go, he drove back home and dropped everything off. His last destination before lunch was clothes shopping. John had put that down the end of the list as it was the thing he least wanted to do. The Chief knew nothing about clothes at all. However, the store he had chosen for his clothes shopping was perfect and completely his style. The store had sweatpants, cargo pants, cargo shorts and plain t-shirts, which was all he really wanted. Spartan-IIs were naturally quite good at regulating their body heat, but in Australia the weather was more humid than he was used to. John figured that the shorts were probably a smart idea, even though the last pair of shorts he had worn was probably around twenty years prior and all they did was highlight his blindingly pale legs. Aside from those, he also bought a single thin zip-up hoodie and two pairs of jogging shoes. In his experience, shoes didn’t last him a long time. In all honesty, he was surprised the store stocked clothing and shoes in his size. He wasn’t exactly built the same way the average person was. Regardless, the cashier folded and bagged his clothes, and wished him a good day.

With that, he was on his way home again for lunch.


End file.
